


"CHiPs" 2017 Season 1/Episode 2 "Welcome to Central"-Part 2

by Firebuff51 (DCMUFics)



Series: "CHiPs" 2017 [2]
Category: CHiPs (TV)
Genre: California, Car Chases, Crimes & Criminals, Friendship, Gen, Gunplay, Humor, Los Angeles, Modern Retelling, Police Procedural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 01:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DCMUFics/pseuds/Firebuff51
Summary: Part 2. Grossman discovers a clue that could help bring down the motorcycle theft ring. Jon is asked on a date by a woman that he ticketed, while Ponch continues in his attempts to win a bet. The officers are involved in not one, but two harrowing chases.





	"CHiPs" 2017 Season 1/Episode 2 "Welcome to Central"-Part 2

“ **CHiPs” 2017**

Episode 1.2

 

_ **Previously in “CHiPs”...** _

 

_Bonnie Clark transferred to Central from the CHP's Napa Valley office. Ponch bet several of the other officers that he could win a date with her._

 

_A motorcycle theft ring had been operating for several weeks in the L.A. Area._

 

_Jon berated an actress for speeding._

 

_Sindy Cahill neared the end of her probationary period as a motorcycle officer while having to endure Grossman as her training officer._

 

_Grossman crashed his bike while pursuing a stolen motorcycle._

 

Friday.

 

Ponch and Jon sat side by side in the report writing room at Central, typing away at the computers before them as they attempted to catch up on their paperwork before the morning briefing.

 

“You bringing anybody to Sindy's surprise party tonight?” asked Ponch, staring intently at his keyboard as he pecked at the keys with his index fingers.

 

Jon scanned a page in his notebook before typing up the same information on his monitor.

 

“Uhh, probably not. You?”

 

“Yeah, Bonnie.”

 

Jon slowly looked up at him.

 

“So...you got Bonnie to go out with you?”

 

“Well, not yet. I mean, I haven't asked her exactly...”

 

“Uh-huh,” Jon smiled as he leaned back in his chair. “Don't get too far ahead of yourself, partner.”

 

Pete Tanaka, a square-jawed Asian officer with a crew cut walked in wearing the dark blue BDU's of a K-9 handler. His partner Bruno, a two year old German Shepherd, trotted in behind him.

 

“Hey Baker, ya got a visitor at the front desk,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of the conference table. “She's a hottie, too. Looks like your partner's charms are starting to rub off on ya.”

 

“Yeah. Well, let's hope not, Pete.” Jon grinned, slapping Pete's shoulder with his gloves as he left.

 

“Hey Ponch,” said Pete, scratching Bruno behind the ear. “Can I still get in on this thing about you and the new girl? Fifty bucks, right?”

 

Ponch swiveled in his chair and stared at him.

 

“The betting window is closed.”

 

Jon walked in to the front desk area to see Vanessa Milan standing before him, hands folded on the counter. The actress appeared even more beautiful to him now than when he had stopped her the day before.

 

“Officer Baker. I wanted to-”

 

“I'll save you the time, Ms. Milan,” Jon took a breath. “You can't contest the citation here. If you're here to file a complaint, I'll get the proper forms for you.”

 

“No, no,” she sighed. “I'm...I'm here to apologize. About yesterday. I was wrong.”

 

Jon folded his arms.

 

“Yes ma'am. You were.”

 

“You don't give an inch, do you?” she smiled. “Look, I'm sorry. I was up late on a shoot. I was tired. I was late for a meeting with my agent in Culver City...I know that's not an excuse...I...I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, Mr. Baker. I was way out of line and I feel terrible about it. I hope that you'll accept my apology.”

 

Jon relaxed and hooked his thumbs over his belt buckle.

 

“Well, in that case...apology accepted,” he smiled. “This is kind of a new one for me. I don't think I've ever had anyone that I've cited before come in and actually apologize to me.”

 

“Well, I could hear my mother's voice, scolding me,” she chuckled. “I'd like to make it up to you.”

 

“Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't accept gifts.”

 

“Hmm, well...what if you and I were to run into each other when you were off duty? Would you be allowed to socialize with me?”

 

Jon cleared his throat.

 

“I uh...suppose that would be okay.”

 

She smiled and ran a hand through her hair.

 

“I might be over at the Omni club on Melrose about nine tonight. Just saying.”

 

Jon nodded.

 

“Actually, we're having a party for a friend of ours tonight around eight. It's at a nice little restaurant called Cora's over on Lincoln. It's no nightclub, but you're welcome to come. Uh...just sayin'.”

 

“Okay, then, Officer Baker. Maybe I'll see you there.”

 

“Call me Jon,” he replied. “And...maybe I'll be looking forward to it.”

 

He watched her leave, then turned to see Ponch leaning against a filing cabinet with his arms folded, staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

 

“What?” asked Jon.

 

“My partner's got a date with a movie star!”

 

“ **Welcome to Central”**

**Part II**

 

Sindy nervously adjusted her belt buckle before a wall length mirror in the women's locker room.

 

Bonnie stood a few feet away at her locker, strapping on her Kevlar vest.

 

“You okay? You seem kinda anxious.”

 

“Me?” Sindy replied, pinning the seven pointed badge to her chest. “I'm just ducky. Last day of my probation as a motor officer. No biggie.”

 

“I'm sure you've got it sewn up,” Bonnie smiled.

 

“Probably. Maybe,” Sindy rolled her eyes as she turned to face her. “So, how are you adjusting to life here in the big city?”

 

“Well,” Bonnie zipped up her uniform shirt and tucked it into her pants. “I already know where to find a couple of Starbucks, so you know...so far so good.”

 

Sindy lifted her helmet from the bench.

 

“Any of the guys try to hit on you yet?”

 

“Just Poncherello.”

 

“Ponch is harmless. He's actually a really good guy.”

 

Bonnie pulled on her Sam Browne and buckled it.

 

“You're not doing some kind of PR job for him are you?”

 

Sindy laughed and shook her head.

 

“Ponch doesn't need my help in that department. He does a good job of promoting himself already.”

 

“Honestly, I can't even think about dating somebody right now,” Bonnie snapped a belt-keeper into place. “Much less another cop. _Definitely_ not another cop.”

 

“Been burned before by one of our comrades in arms?”

 

Bonnie flashed a knowing smile as she slid the semi-automatic pistol into the holster on her right hip and closed her locker.

 

“Grossman told me Poncherello's got a fifty dollar bet going on whether or not he can get a date with me,” she laughed. “Is that all I rate?”

 

Sindy chuckled as she held the door for her.

 

“Hey, that's pretty high stakes for Ponch.”

 

XXXXXX

 

“They're still out there,” Sergeant Getraer stood at the podium before his troops. “Two Yamahas and a Suzuki boosted yesterday, all within two miles of here; practically under our noses. Now, I know that the joint task force is working overtime to take these guys down, but it was one of _my_ officers who laid down his bike yesterday in pursuit of one of these punks. Nothing would please me more than to see them wearing CHP bracelets when they get hooked.”

 

“Careful, Sarge,” Ponch spoke up from the back of the room. “Sounds like you're taking this personally. I thought we were supposed to keep an even keel out there.”

 

“Oh, I'm not taking it personally, Frank. I'm just letting my officers know what would please me most. You do want to make your Sergeant happy, _don't you_?”

 

“Oh I live for it, Sarge!” Ponch winked.

 

Jon chuckled beside him as he hung his head.

 

“Last order of business,” Getraer flipped a page in his binder. “Three of the new Ford Explorer patrol vehicles were received last week by the vehicle pool and are now ready for service. Shop 413 goes to Watkins. Shop 218 goes to Fritz and Clark. The third Explorer is going to 'B' Watch. That's it. Get out there.”

 

The officers pushed back from the tables and grabbed their belongings as they prepared to start a new shift.

 

“Let's go check out our new wheels, partner,” Fritz elbowed Bonnie as they fell into line behind the other officers.

 

“Hey, Bonnie!” Ponch spoke up as he tried to step past Jon. “Wait, I...”

 

“Sorry, Ponch,” Bonnie winked as she pointed to her watch. “Gotta get out there.”

 

Jon slapped Ponch's shoulder.

 

“Still plannin' that date?”

 

Ponch shook his head as they left.

 

“Grossman,” Getraer lowered his voice as Sindy and Grossman approached the podium. “How ya feelin'?”

 

“Clean bill of health, Sarge!” he saluted.

 

“How are you really, Grossie?”

 

“Little sore, but I'm good, Joe. Honest.”

 

The sergeant eyed him cautiously.

 

“Okay, then. Cahill, it's your last day of Phase Three. Make us proud.”

 

“Will do, Sergeant!” she snapped her own salute.

 

“All right, all right, get out of here.”

 

They made their way outside and crossed the lot to the motor pool.

 

“You sure you're okay, Grossie?” she asked.

 

“I'll feel a whole lot better once we catch these guys,” he replied.

 

They approached the garage where the office's mechanic, Harlan Arliss stood, arms folded. He was a diminutive man with curly brown hair who constantly wore a striped tie and immaculate white lab coat.

 

“How's my bike, Harlan?” asked Grossman.

 

“It's over there,” he narrowed his eyes at him and jerked a thumb over his shoulder to a motorcycle covered by a gray tarp. “It's being prepped for surgery.”

 

“Oh come on, Harlan,” Grossman pleaded. “It couldn't be helped.”

 

“Cracked shell, bent forks, shattered LED's, busted suspension. Poncherello, I would expect this from. Maybe even Bill Clayton, but _you,_ Arthur? I expected better.”

 

“So it's 'Arthur' now?” Sindy asked, amused. “Harlan, Grossie almost ate it, yesterday. One more foot one way or the other and he might not be here for you to yell at.”

 

Harlan softened his demeanor.

 

“Okay, pal. I'm sorry. I'm glad you're okay.”

 

“Believe me Harlan, I've been beating myself up about it since yesterday,”

Grossman sighed.

 

Harlan tossed him a set of keys and gestured to the black and white BMW R1200RT-P motorcycle parked to his left.

 

“I'm givin' you the best motor I've got. Take good care of her, Grossie.”

 

“I will,” Grossman smiled as he climbed onto the bike.

 

“Are we still on for Warcraft tomorrow night?” asked Harlan. “It's been ages since I've been on a dungeon quest!”

 

Grossman slipped on his helmet.

 

“A legion of orcs couldn't keep me away!”

 

Sindy shot a puzzled look back at Grossman as she walked to her bike.

 

“You know... _World of Warcraft_?” he explained. “It's an MMO? You've never played?”

 

She shook her head as she swung a leg over her bike and settled into the saddle.

 

“One more day, Sindy,” she mumbled to herself as she pulled on her gloves. “Just one more day.”

 

XXXXXX

 

Ponch and Jon rode through the morning traffic on their way towards the freeway.

 

“So, on your date tonight, are you gonna drive?” asked Ponch.

 

Jon laughed quizzically.

 

“How else am I gonna get there?”

 

“I'm just sayin',” Ponch called, keeping pace with his partner. “You're the only cop I know who drives a Mini Cooper! It's not exactly a chick magnet!”

 

“Really, Ponch?” Jon chuckled at him. “This from a guy who lived in a camper up until a month ago?”

 

Ponch shook his head.

 

“It's not a camper, Jon! It's a _motorhome_!”

 

“ _Attention San Diego Freeway units, 11-79 with a rollover, Southbound 405 at the Amherst on-ramp_ ”, the dispatcher called. “ _Central units to handle, identify._ ”

 

“L.A., 15-7-Mary-3 and 4 responding from Culver and Lakeside,” Jon called, hitting his siren as he and Ponch accelerated.

 

“ _15-7 responding, southbound Main, passing National_ ,” Baricza chimed in.

 

Two minutes later, Ponch and Jon stopped their bikes several feet from a black mini van which had rolled down an embankment and landed on its roof.

 

“L.A., 7-Mary-3,” Jon called. “10-97 on the 405 at Amherst, checking for injuries. Roll 11-85 and additional units for 11-84.”

 

Ponch ran to the van as Jon began to direct traffic. He dropped to a knee and peered through the passenger side window.

 

“Anybody in here?!” he called.

 

“Help me...please...” a muffled voice called.

 

Baricza nodded to Jon as he stepped from his patrol car. The sound of a wailing siren filled the air.

 

“Fire's comin' up behind me.”

 

“Hang on! Help's coming!” Ponch said urgently as he backed out of the smashed vehicle. “Jon!”

 

“What's up?” Jon unstrapped his helmet.

 

“There's a lady trapped under the van!”

 

An LAFD rescue ambulance pulled to a stop behind Baricza's cruiser followed by another black and white.

 

“Where's our patient?” asked one of the firefighter/paramedics as he stepped from the ambulance.

 

Ponch pulled off his helmet and shades.

 

“Underneath the van. We need to get it off her now!”

 

“We're gonna need airbags to lift it,” the paramedic replied. “Fire rigs are still a few minutes out.”

 

“We don't have time to wait,” said Jon as Jeb Turner made his way over.

 

“Can we lift it off of her ourselves?” asked Ponch. “If we all lifted together, just enough to pull her out?”

 

Turner nodded.

 

“Sounds like our best bet.”

 

“Okay, you four plus me,” said the paramedic. “My partner will climb under and make the grab.”

 

Ponch jogged back to the van.

 

“Let's do it then!”

 

Tanaka arrived as the officers lined up beside the van. He ran to help.

 

“Ma'am, we're gonna get you out in just a few seconds,” Ponch called. “I just need you to stay calm.”

 

“It...it hurts...” the woman moaned.

 

“I know it does, but it'll just be a few seconds longer.”

 

“Okay, everybody. On my count,” said Jon. “One...two...three!”

 

With great effort, the men began to lift the van. It creaked as it tilted to its right.

 

“Come on! A little bit more!” the second paramedic called.

 

The officers braced their feet in the dirt as they pushed, now fully extending their arms as the van tilted over farther. They strained and gritted their teeth as they pushed, soon revealing a young Hispanic woman who lay on her back in the dirt, bleeding from the head.

 

“Hold it!” the second paramedic shouted. He dropped to his knees and crawled beneath the vehicle.

 

“Hurry!” shouted Ponch.

 

The paramedic cautiously slipped his hands under the woman's arms and dragged her clear from the van, across the dirt shoulder and onto the pavement.

 

The officers released their collective grip on the vehicle's frame and it dropped back onto the shoulder in a small cloud of dust as they stepped backward.

 

The men exchanged relieved expressions, pausing to catch their collective breath.

 

“ _Join the CHP_ they said”, Baricza sighed. “ _It'll be an adventure_ they said...”

 

The others laughed as the paramedics went to work treating their patient.

 

XXXXXX

 

“You wanna try the Golden Dragon for lunch?,” Sindy called as she and Grossman rolled down the freeway off-ramp.

 

“Dragon...,” Grossman said thoughtfully. “A dragon!”

 

“What?”

 

“That guy that got away from us yesterday,” Grossman said as they guided their motors onto the surface street. “I noticed his leathers. They had some kind of design on the back. It was a dragon! I couldn't figure it out until now!”

 

“I couldn't see,” Sindy replied. “You were ahead of me.”

 

“Riding leathers with a dragon on the back. That seems like it might be custom work.”

 

Sindy nodded.

 

“So maybe we ask around, see who does custom work, who their customers are...”

 

“Exactly!” Grossman smiled as he keyed his mic. “L.A., 15-Mary-5, can you have S-4 11-98 at Colfax and Olive?

 

XXXXXX

 

Ponch sat down across from Jon at a red table on the patio of the In-N-Out burger. Their bikes were parked side by side behind them.

 

He rubbed his hands together as he stared at the messy burger and fries on his tray.

 

“Three by three with animal style fries! A meal fit for a king!”

 

Jon stared at him, his chin resting in his palm.

 

“Come on, partner,” Ponch bit into his burger. “It's not that bad, I'll have a salad for dinner.”

 

“Okay,” Jon smirked. “I think I might have some Tums in my saddle bag if you need 'em later, though.”

 

Ponch shrugged as a CHP Ford Explorer pulled into the parking space beside their motors.

 

“I'm young. I can take it. I'm...”

 

His voice trailed off as he watched Fritz and Bonnie step from their black and white.

 

“Be right back!”

 

He skipped across the patio.

 

“Hey! Two of my favorite coppers! Let me buy you lunch!”

 

Fritz eyed him suspiciously.

 

“What do you want, Ponch?”

 

“Nothin'!” Ponch feigned innocence. “Just wanted to do something nice for my colleagues!”

 

“Colleagues?” Jon mumbled.

 

“Yeah, so anyway,” Ponch continued. “Fritz, why don't you hang out with Baker and I'll go in with Bonnie here and buy you a couple of Double Doubles?

Sound good?”

 

“Okay,” Fritz sat down across from Jon. “I want grilled onions and my fries well done.”

 

Ponch winked as he held the door for Bonnie.

 

“You got it!”

 

“I'll say this for my partner.” Jon sipped from his soda cup. “He doesn't give up without a fight.”

 

Fritz chuckled.

 

Meanwhile, Sergeant Getraer sat on his motor facing Sindy and Grossman at the corner of a small gas station's parking lot.

 

“A dragon? You're sure?” he asked.

 

“I'm positive, Sarge,” Grossman replied, holding his helmet in his hands. “It

was a green dragon design, in an 'S' pattern.”

 

“Did you see it too, Cahill?”

 

“No,” Sindy shook her head. “but I trust Grossie. He was closer than I was.”

 

Getraer nodded.

 

“Okay. I'll let Auto Theft know about it. Meantime, you two get back out on your beat. I'll let you know if anything shakes out.”

 

Grossman cleared his throat.

 

“Ya know, Sarge, if Auto Theft requires a uniformed presence on this, we'd be pleased to offer our services.”

 

Getraer smiled.

 

“Oh I'm sure you would, Grossman. I'll see what I can do, huh?”

 

He revved his engine and rode out of the parking lot.

 

Grossman slipped his helmet back on and buckled the strap.

 

“Can't blame a guy for tryin'.”

 

XXXXXX

 

“Okay. Go ahead, Ponch,” Bonnie sat beside Ponch on a bench inside the restaurant as she waited for her order. “Ask me.”

 

“Ask you what?”

 

“Come on. You wanna ask me out, don't you? I mean, that's why you bought Fritz and I lunch, right? So you could get me alone? So you could ask me out?”

 

Ponch stood and shrugged.

 

“Well, now that you mention it...we're having a little party for Sindy tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like to be my date?”

 

“Let me think...no.”

 

“No?”

 

“No,” she folded her arms. “Ponch, I'm brand new here. I'm still getting settled. The last thing I need is to enter into any kind of a romantic relationship...especially with a guy who only wants to date me so he doesn't lose a bet.”

 

Ponch blushed as he scratched the back of his head.

 

“Oh. Ya heard about that, huh?”

 

She waved him off as she stood and walked to the counter to retrieve her order.

 

“Look, I don't date cops, anyway. Even if I didn't know about the bet, I still wouldn't go out with you. It's nothing personal.”

 

“Okay, I guess the bet was kind of stupid, but...” Ponch sighed.

 

“Uh-huh. Stupid,” Bonnie tossed a french fry into her mouth. “and juvenile. Thanks for lunch, though.”

 

She flashed a smile before heading out the door with her tray.

 

Ponch offered a half-hearted wave.

 

“Don't mention it.”

 

XXXXXX

 

Dustin Lee stepped inside the ancient warehouse and closed the heavy metal door behind him. He pulled off his black and red leather jacket. A green dragon design was embroidered on the back of it.

 

Rows of plastic shells and other parts belonging to disassembled motorcycles were stacked against the far wall while several men were busy dismantling even more motorcycles at the front of the building.

 

Nico Lopez, a thin man with long, slicked back dark hair exited the rear office and clapped his hands.

 

“Dustin baby! We're about to be rich!” he chuckled as he slapped his partner's shoulder. “I just completed a deal with the buyer down in Baja. They're gonna take everything we got!”

 

“Everything?!” Dustin laughed. “Oh man! Hell, I might just take my cut and stay in Mexico!”

 

“I'm headin' to Vegas, myself,” Nico sighed. “Too much heat on us, man. Gonna lay low for a while out in the desert. Jimmy's out pickin' up a couple more bikes and then we're headin' south of the border, brother.”

 

Dustin slipped his jacket back on.

 

“Okay, I'm gonna go pack. Tell Jimmy to swing by my place first, then we'll head over here, help you load the truck and we can start down.”

 

“Make it quick, Dusty,” Nico held the door for him. “Like I said, the heat's on and the sooner we can get outta L.A., the better.”

 

XXXXXX

 

Sindy and Grossman were in the report writing room, catching up on paperwork when Getraer knocked on the window and hurriedly waved them over as he talked on the phone.

 

The partners exchanged puzzled looks as they stepped into his office.

 

“You're sure?” Getraer continued a one-sided conversation as he scribbled in a notebook. “I'll let my officers know right now...thanks again!”

 

He hung up the phone and clapped his hands together.

 

Grossman cocked his head to one side.

 

“What's up, Sarge?”

 

“That was Diggins at Auto Theft. The jacket, Grossman! It _was_ a custom job. The detectives from the task force were able to track a suspect down through his credit card receipt. Dustin Tyler Lee. He did a five year stretch for auto theft up at Corcoran. They've got his place under surveillance right now.”

 

“That's great!” Sindy punched her partner in the arm. “Nice hunch, Grossie!”

 

Getraer stood up.

 

“I'm gonna have Communications put out a Code-5 broadcast, so I want you guys to stay clear of the address, but patrol in the general area in case they need a... _uniformed presence_.”

 

Grossman smiled.

 

“Whatever you say, Sarge!”

 

XXXXXX

 

Two CHP detectives sat in a gray unmarked Dodge Charger, at the far end of the street, intently watching the small white duplex with an adobe roof in the middle of the block.

 

Dustin Lee emerged from his apartment and crossed the front lawn carrying a duffel bag, which he strapped down to the back of his motorcycle.

 

A black pickup truck with two motorcycles secured inside its bed rounded the corner and stopped in front of the driveway.

 

“'Bout time, Jimmy,” Dustin called as he approached the truck. “You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

 

“Hey, I had to be careful,” Jimmy Thurston replied. “Pigs are everywhere, man. I had to keep looking over my shoulder.”

 

“You're paranoid.” Dustin slipped on his helmet. “Let's roll. The sooner we get goin', the sooner we can ditch this town.”

 

Jimmy glanced up the street and focused his attention on the Charger.

 

“Damn it,” the detective behind the wheel growled. “I knew I should've parked farther back.”

 

“Yeah, just 'cuz you're paranoid don't mean they ain't out to get you, brother,” Jimmy said. “There's a cop car up the street!”

 

Dustin looked around nervously.

 

“I don't see any cops, man.”  
  


“There's one of them unmarked cars up the street. I could spot one a mile away. It's got one a them spot lights up front. I'm getting' outta here!”

 

He quickly backed the truck into a driveway and then sped off in the opposite direction.

 

Dustin hopped onto his motorcycle and tore off across the lawn and sidewalk as he followed.

 

The Charger pulled away from the curb, siren screaming.

 

XXXXXX

 

Ponch and Jon rolled down Ventura boulevard when their radios came to life with an alert tone.

 

“ _Attention all Central units, 15-R-2 is in pursuit of a red motorcycle and a black Ford pickup truck southbound Lake, approaching Oakwood, units to assist, identify._ ”

 

“They're headed our way!” Ponch called.

 

Jon nodded as he keyed the mic.

 

“L.A., 15-7-Mary 3 and 4, responding, northbound Ventura approaching Oakwood.”

 

“ _15-Mary-5 and 5-Adam, responding, we're two away,”_ Grossman reported.

 

A minute later, the pickup truck blew through the intersection ahead of Ponch and Jon, closely followed by the motorcycle. The two motor officers fell in behind the unmarked Charger, all with sirens screaming and lights flashing.

 

Sindy and Grossman joined the chase seconds later. Ponch and Jon overtook the detectives' unit and were now leading the pursuit.

 

“'T'-intersection!” Jon called to his partner through his helmet's mic.

 

The pickup truck turned left as the motorcycle turned right. Ponch and Jon leaned into a right turn and continued after the motorcycle.

 

“L.A., 7-Mary-3, suspects have split up,” Jon reported. “Motorcycle is now northbound Adams from Oakwood. Black pickup has turned southbound. Mary-3 and 4 will stay with the motorcycle.”

 

“15-Mary-5, we'll stay with the truck,” said Grossman as he and Sindy followed the detectives.

 

“ _15-7, I'm three away, Jon,_ ” called Baricza.

 

The suspect looked back at the pursuing motorcycle officers and accelerated. Ponch and Jon gunned their engines and matched his speed.

 

They zoomed along the number three lane, then glided into the number two, making their way around a column of cars.

 

Four blocks later, Baricza's black and white approached from the opposite direction and made a hard left turn ahead of the suspect who was forced to turn onto a narrow dirt road. Ponch and Jon followed, kicking up a cloud of dust as Baricza joined them.

 

Meanwhile, Grossman and Sindy had taken over the other pursuit from the detective unit with Fritz and Bonnie's Explorer pulling up behind them.

 

“L.A., 15-Mary-5 and 5-Adam,” Grossman called. “We're now westbound California from Adams, approaching Colton at seventy miles per hour.”

 

The motorcycles mounted in the bed of the pickup had been hastily secured and they had now begun to shift with the movement of the truck.

 

The motor officers had changed positions multiple times during the pursuit as they navigated traffic and Sindy had now passed her partner. As the truck careened into a right turn, the bikes in it's bed fell against each other and one of them toppled out of the truck, where it crashed to the pavement right in front of Sindy's motorcycle.

 

Grossman's heart nearly stopped at the thought of his partner being involved in a serious accident. Sindy swerved to the right and deftly avoided the obstacle before continuing on unabated.

 

“Atta girl!” Grossman grinned to himself as he accelerated.

 

Ponch, Jon and Baricza continued their pursuit of the motorcycle. The dirt road that the suspect had turned onto was actually the entrance to a flood control channel. The suspect sped through the tunnel. He skidded and had to steady himself as he reached the bottom of the ramp before he turned right and tore off down the dry cement river bed.

 

Ponch leaned into a right turn followed by Jon and then Baricza's cruiser. The suspect popped a wheelie, almost taunting the pursuing officers.

 

“He's mine!” Ponch called.

 

“Not if I get to him first!” Jon replied.

 

The suspect rode up onto the inclined wall of the channel, riding higher and higher near street level while Ponch and Jon followed along on the flat part of the river bed.

 

As he rode back down the incline, the front wheel of the suspect's motorcycle hit the pavement hard, snapping the front suspension and throwing him over the handlebars. He landed on the cement and his bike landed beside him.

 

Ponch and Jon rode to a stop and quickly stepped from their bikes. The suspect, laying flat on his back raised his hands as the officers approached.

 

“Okay, man. Okay...” he sighed from under his helmet. “I give up.”

 

“Wise choice,” said Jon.

 

Ponch smiled and held out his fist. Jon smirked and bumped it with his.

 

Back at the secondary pursuit, the pickup truck, now missing one of the motorcycles from its bed, continued on its flight from California's Finest at an increasingly higher rate of speed.

 

“15-Mary-5, pursuit is now northbound Glenwood from Olive, ninety miles per hour,” reported Grossman.

 

“ _15-Mary-5, this is S-4_ ,” Sergeant Getraer's voice filled the officers' helmets. “ _I want you and Mary-5-Adam to fall back. Speeds are too high for motors._ ”

 

“7-Mary-5, copy,” Grossman sighed, slowing his speed. Sindy glanced back at him and shook her head resignedly as she fell in beside her partner. Fritz and Bonnie replaced them at the head of the pursuit.

 

Seconds later, the suspect began to slow as he approached heavier traffic.

 

“PIT?” Fritz asked his partner as he steered the Explorer.

 

“Definitely,” Bonnie replied as she keyed the mic. “S-4, from 15-5-Boy, request permission for a PIT maneuver, suspect's speed has slowed to thirty miles an hour.”

 

“ _15-5-Boy, S-4. Permission granted.”_

 

“Alright!” Fritz chuckled. “Let's see what she can do.”

 

He pulled up even with the fleeing truck, then fell back slightly.

 

“Now!” called Bonnie.

 

Fritz turned the wheel and steered the SUV into the left rear quarter panel of the pick up truck, spinning it around where it came to a stop, facing them in the street before a strip mall.

 

The suspect jumped from the truck and ran off across the parking lot. Sindy and Grossman chased after him.

 

“Stop!” Grossman ordered as he closed in on him.

 

The suspect looked back at him but continued running across the asphalt.

 

Grossman rode up beside the man and kicked him. He tumbled to the ground. Sindy dismounted her motorcycle and drew her sidearm.

 

“Don't move! Stay down!” she called, approaching the suspect.

 

Grossman quickly handcuffed, searched him and pulled him to his feet.

 

Jeb Turner stopped his cruiser nearby and stepped out.

 

“Nice kick, Beckham,” he laughed as he took the suspect from Grossman.

 

Grossman shrugged.

 

“I told him to stop.”

 

“So,” Sindy unstrapped her helmet. “How'd I do on my final exam, Professor?”

 

He gave her a thumbs up.

 

“Looks like you aced it, to me!”

 

XXXXXX

 

 _Cora's Place_ was a one story red brick restaurant that sat on a street corner just a few blocks from CHP Central. The fact that it was owned and operated by Derk Hutchins, a retired CHP officer in his late fifties and his wife, Cora, made it an ideal hangout for police officers, especially Chippies.

 

The dining room had begun to fill with party goers, waiting to congratulate Sindy.

 

Ponch and Jon sat at the bar. Ponch rested his chin in his hand, staring at his beer.

 

“Come on, Ponch, cheer up,” Jon clapped him on the shoulder. “So you lost the bet. There'll be other girls.”

 

“Aw it's not that,” Ponch sighed. “I just kinda feel like a jerk. Bonnie was right. It _was_ stupid and juvenile of me to make a bet like that with the guys. The worst part of it is, I think she and I could have been friends and I messed it up.”

 

Jon sipped his beer.

 

“So make it right with her.”  
  


Ponch shrugged.

  
“I think we're probably past that point, ol' buddy.”

 

Derk stepped over and tossed a towel over his shoulder.

 

“Well, I hear congratulations are in order,” he said in his North Carolina drawl.

“You boys reeled in some pretty big fish today.”

 

“It was a team effort,” said Jon. “The guy we chased down gave up the whole operation. The task force raided the chop shop a couple of hours ago.”

 

Derk folded his arms.

 

“So why the long face, Poncherella? I'd be pleased as punch if I was you.”

 

“Oh Derk, leave 'im alone,” his wife Cora replied as she stood beside him. “He

lost a bet over a girl.”  
  


Ponch sat up.

 

“ _You_ know about that, Cora? I'm gonna kill Grossman.”

 

“I would've expected better of you, Frank,” she said. “Making a bet like some high school boy...”

 

“Okay!” Ponch threw up his hands. “Uncle!”

 

He glanced over and noticed Bonnie making her way through the crowd. Derk handed him a cold bottle of beer and winked.

 

Ponch smiled and disappeared into the gathering of well wishers.

 

“Oh my Gawd,” Cora said breathlessly as she stared past Jon. “It's Vanessa Milan! Derk, she's in our restaurant!”

 

Derk arched an eyebrow.

 

“Who?”

 

“She's a movie star!” she hissed, lowering her voice. “And she's coming this way!”

 

“Excuse me,” Jon stood and turned to face his date.

 

“Hey, Jon!” Vanessa smiled and kissed his cheek.

 

Cora shook her head as she watched them find their way to a booth.

 

“I swear, the lives that those boys lead...”

 

Ponch tapped Bonnie's shoulder and she turned to see him holding a bottle of Heineken before her.

 

“Wow, Ponch. You don't quit, do you?”

 

“It's a peace offering.”

 

She sighed and took the beer from him as she sat down at a small table.

 

“Okay, go ahead. Spit your game, Poncherello, but you're still not gettin' anywhere.”

 

“No game,” Ponch sighed. “I'm sorry. The bet...it was stupid. Sometimes...I let my ego get the better of me. Ask Harlan. There's a couple of damaged motors in his garage to attest to that fact.”

 

She laughed, then took a sip from her bottle.

 

“I told you that I don't date cops,” she picked at the bottle's label. “That's uh...a fairly new rule, actually. When I worked up in Napa, I was in a relationship with another officer. It didn't work out. I just felt like I couldn't work there anymore...”

 

“So you transferred to L.A..”

 

She pointed at him in acknowledgment.

 

“I'm just trying to get my feet planted. I'm not ready to date anybody. I just can't deal with it right now. I do need a friend, though. Desperately.”

 

Ponch smiled and leaned back in his chair.

 

“ _That_ , I can do. I make a great friend. Ask around. I'm the best-”

 

“What was that you were saying about your ego getting the better of you?”

 

He sheepishly lowered his head. They both broke into laughter.

 

“Hey! Everybody!” Getraer called from the front of the room. “ I just got a text from Grossman. He said they just pulled up. Get ready!”

 

Everyone stood and gathered near the middle of the dining room. Baricza stood behind Ponch.

 

“Hey, Ponch. You can get me that fifty any time,” he whispered.

 

“Yeah,” Turner murmured, stepping up beside him. “We know you're good for it.”

 

Ponch sighed.

 

“You guys are so juvenile...”

 

Grossman and Sindy made their way across the parking lot.

 

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Grossie, but I think I'd rather just go home.

I can't believe that I have to wait until Monday for Lieutenant Bates to sign the paperwork before I'm off probation. This is torture.”

 

“One beer and then I'll take you home,” Grossman opened the door for her.

 

As Sindy stepped into the restaurant, she was met buy a throng of people who shouted out a hearty, “SURPRISE!”

 

“Ahhh! You guys!” she laughed. “I can't believe this!”

 

She waded into the crowd, receiving hugs and handshakes from nearly everyone until she almost bumped into Getraer, standing in the middle of the room.

 

“I have to admit, Cahill, that I stretched the truth a bit. I said that Lieutenant Bates needed to sign off on your paperwork,” he said, his hands folded behind his back. “He signed off on it this afternoon, before your shift was over.”

 

“So...I passed?” Sindy asked, excitedly.

 

“You passed Phase Three,” he presented her with a signed certificate. “You are now officially a California Highway Patrol Motor Officer. Congratulations.”

 

The room erupted into cheers.

 

Sindy stared at the certificate in her hands. Her bottom lip quivered.

 

“You guys don't know how long I've wanted this. Ever since I joined the Patrol. I just want to thank everybody who helped me along the way. Ponch and Jon, you guys always encouraged me. I hope I can be half the motor cop that you two are.”

 

Grossman quietly stood near the front door. Staring down at the drink that Harlan had just handed him.

 

“But, I have to thank Artie Grossman, most of all,” Sindy scanned the room for him and then smiled when they locked eyes. “If he hadn't been such a tough MTO, I don't know if I could have made it. Thank you, Grossie.”

 

Grossman offered a half smile and lifted his drink.

 

“To Sindy.”

 

The crowd lifted their glasses.

 

“To Sindy!”

 

Ponch elbowed Bonnie.

 

“Welcome to Central,” he whispered.

 

She grinned and elbowed him back.

 

**END**

 

This is a work of fiction, any similarities to actual persons, places or incidents is purely coincidental. All legal and law enforcement information may not be accurate.

 


End file.
